Chapter 52: The Witch’s Sins
The wooden horse stopped before the iron cross. A burly man in a thick leather apron and a full, black leather executioner's hood stepped forward, a figure ripped straight from the darkest etchings of a medieval history book, a brutal relic in an age of steam. He lifted the girl from the torture device. As he did, I caught a glimpse of strange, intricate runes, glowing with a faint, sickly light, carved all over the wooden beam. They looked nothing like the city's script; they were something older, and darker. The guards who had escorted the witch fanned out around the stage. I noticed a palpable tension between them and the knights and priests already standing guard. They kept their distance, and I saw a few of the knights sneer and one of the priests make a dismissive gesture. There were factions here, divisions even among the city’s enforcers.
The executioner began to bind the witch to the iron cross. As he untied her hands to re-secure them, every guard in the arena tensed, their hands flying to the hilts of their swords or the grips of their strange, bulky pistols. They were waiting, ready for her to unleash some terrible power. But the girl didn't struggle. She was limp, a broken doll, her head lolling to one side. They tied her securely to the cross, and only then did the guards relax, a collective, quiet sigh of relief rippling through their ranks. I almost laughed at their cowardice. A whole company of armed men, terrified of a single, tortured, half-dead girl.
The execution, I knew, would not be swift. The condemned had to be displayed for a time, for the crowd's viewing pleasure. The mob stared, their eyes shamelessly raking over her naked, broken body. I found my own gaze drawn to her, this poor, doomed creature. She was beautiful. Truly, astonishingly beautiful. She was the most beautiful girl I had seen since arriving in this world, and few from my old life, even the airbrushed idols on the screen, could compare. Her bone-white hair was a perfect match for my own secret tastes. And even with half her face covered by the hood, I could see the perfect, delicate shape of her jaw, the high cheekbones. I could imagine the stunning eyes that lay hidden beneath the rough burlap. Her body, though a canvas of scars and bruises, was flawlessly curved, perfectly formed. It was no wonder the men in the crowd, Jared included, were staring, transfixed, their mouths slightly agape. It was a tale as old as time, wasn't it? The mechanics of a witch hunt. Envy from other women, lust and resentment from men who had been spurned. And for the greedy lords and lecherous jailers, the charge of witchcraft was a convenient excuse to sate their own dark desires before casting the girl aside. The old stories, it seemed, were true.
Before the sentence could be carried out, there had to be a show, a public reading of the charges. A man in the VIP gallery stood, his voice booming across the plaza with the help of some unseen speaking-trumpet. "And now, our beloved Lord Mayor of Candon, the honorable Baron Juan, will read the charges against the witch!" The Lord Mayor? I looked up at the gallery. A man so grotesquely fat he seemed to be made of melting tallow was being helped to his feet by two sweating servants, his fine clothes straining at the seams.
"Hoorah, hoorah," the crowd below chanted, their voices flat and mocking, utterly devoid of any real respect.
"Loyal citizens of Candon!" Baron Juan wheezed, his voice a wet rasp that barely carried. "I, Juan Ista, am pleased to announce that, with the full cooperation of the Holy Church, we have captured another wicked witch! You may all sleep soundly in your beds once more!" Another round of jeering cheers went up from the crowd. From what I had seen of Candon, no one was sleeping soundly here. The city was a viper's nest.
"Regarding the sins of this witch," the Baron continued, squinting at a long, folded piece of parchment a servant handed him. It was covered in a dense, spidery script. "Ahem. Last month, this witch did summon a great and terrible storm, causing immense damage to our fair city! She was discovered practicing forbidden sorcery in her home! She did poison the river with her blasphemous alchemical potions! And furthermore… she is responsible for the recent string of murders of young girls, whose body parts she did offer as a sacrifice to some foul demon…"
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